Hiraeth
by Neitket
Summary: Summary: Hiraeth: an intense happiness at a love that was, and sadness that it is now gone. In the summer of their ninth year, Edmund learns the true meaning of such a happiness. One-shot


Hiraeth

Summary: _Hiraeth_ : an intense happiness at a love that was, and sadness that it is now gone. Edmund understands this Welsh word more than most…

Author's Note: I don't concur to the idea that the Pevensies were only in Narnia for a short amount of time – Lewis himself never stated how long they were in Narnia, and so I've taken that to mean they could have been there for a few decades.

* * *

Despite Edmund's wishes, it isn't the _smallest_ wedding in the world.

Susan and Lucy aren't quite sure how Peter manages it; all they know is one minute the two boys are arguing, and the next they are deciding who should be invited.

It takes Edmund four days from the proposal day to start panicking. Peter is waiting for him – waiting for this moment. Not because he disapproves, but because this is _Edmund_ , and Edmund Pevensie has a certain…. Panache for thinking far too much about what _others_ might say, about how others might think.

"You're not exactly much better," Ed reminds him, half way through his fourth drink. Peter snorts, and declines to answer (even if it's true. He knows he's actually worse.) but this isn't about him. It's about Edmund – his brother, whom he wasn't sure would ever _find_ someone, let alone find the courage to ask them to share a lifetime with him. He doesn't say as much to Ed though; he knows that his brother will most likely take it as an insult, which it isn't. Peter will slay down _anyone_ who defies that logic – who tries to claim that Edmund Pevensie does not deserve happiness.

Even his own siblings.

Susan comes to him one night – irked and frustrated. Peter listens, patiently, whilst she rants – lets her speak about propriety _,_ about right and wrong, and patiently points out – when she is done – that this is _not_ England. Susan whirls to face him, blue eyes distressed and reminding him far too much of their mother. "But what if we get sent back?" she argues, and a chill goes down Peter's spine at the implication. _Sent back_. It's something Ed has worried about in the past – before he became engaged – and it's something Peter has tried to put out of his mind. He cannot be a King if his heart is half in England and half in Narnia. None of them can.

He tells Susan as much, and she harrumphs. "This will destroy him," she predicts quietly, too calmly, before leaving, slamming the door behind her to go tell Edmund that she won't be at the wedding.

It takes two weeks to plan everything. The problem with being royalty – certain allies have to be told, promises made, threats levelled if needed. Peter is grateful that most seem rather open to the marriage. There are those who have to be – talked with. But they are few between, and Peter knows that not everyone will agree with his rule. He found that out the hard way – nineteen years ago.

The wedding is delayed a further month because Ed panics. Peter finds him, in the great hallway, where the wedding will be, destroying chairs and causing general chaos. It takes almost _three hours_ to calm the brunette down, and Peter is pretty certain that the only thing that stops Edmund from destroying everything is Lucy's arrival. She is flushed – wearing the bridesmaid's dress chosen for her, and something in Peter's throat catches at the sight of her – his baby sister, all grown up.

Edmund's throat tightens, and the next he is sobbing in her shoulder, whilst Lucy gives Peter a confused look, trying at the same time to comfort their brother.

"Does he want to marry me?"

Peter is staring at the seating chart, trying to figure out why there are two spaces proclaimed _booked_ in the first row, without names, when Edmund's fiancé confronts him. He winces, folds the seating chart up and looks over, gesturing to the nearby seat, which Edmund's fiancé takes, gladly. Peter waits a moment to collect his thoughts, before explaining quietly. "He's frightened."

"Of marriage?" The question is innocent enough, but it makes Peter smile.

"No." he pauses. "… you know we aren't from this world. Narnia." There's a nod. "Ed was very young when we left England. I'm not sure how much he told you – but there were… some rather strict rules. Certain things that weren't allowed. Weren't _done_. Weren't even talked about." Peter swallows. He hates to say it – but he'd been among the first to question his brother's choice. It took seeing the two together over the course of _three years_ for him to change his mind. He's still not quite sure how Edmund managed to so easily forgive him.

"… so he's ashamed?"

Peter shakes his head, then hesitates again. "no. No he's not. … you just have to be patient with him. Don't let him win – don't prove us all right." He winces a bit at how that might sound. "… I think he's convinced you will leave him. Did he ever tell you about the Muil Envoy?" There's another nod, and Peter sighs a little in relief. _That_ fatal relationship had been banned from conversation – even the mention of the envoy's name is enough to make Edmund loose his trail of thought, these days. It feels right though, to mention it here. "… well you know how that one went, then. It… made him more cautious. Made him remember England… and not in the best of ways."

There's a quiet moment, and then Edmund's fiancé speaks. "… Thank-you, King Peter. For explaining it to me."

Peter gives an exasperated, fond smile. "You're about to become family. You don't have to call me _King_ , you know." He pauses, and reaches forward to clasp a shoulder. "… _don't_ prove him right. Love him. Tell him when he's being an arse, and tell him when he's being bloody brilliant. Keep him safe. Protect him."

"Even if I have to keep him safe against himself, I will."

Peter gives a grimacing smile. That's the worst of it, he thinks. Sometimes Ed's worst enemy is himself.

The wedding itself comes upon a day that – despite the Raven's predictions, despite Oreius' assurances – is wet and stormy. Luckily the whole thing is moved indoors without too much affair – though it does have Lucy flaffing about a bit more than normal.

Peter finds Edmund – who would usually be outside, dancing in the rain, if he could – in the little side chapel near his rooms. He waits outside, respectfully, until Edmund is done. The Just doesn't quite meet his brother's eyes when he does appear – and Peter is struck by how… odd his brother is acting.

"Ed?"

Edmund smiles weakly, and shakes his head. He clasps a hand on Peter's shoulder, and swallows hard. "… thank-you. For everything you've done for me. Not just here in Narnia, but… always."

Peter's brow furrows and he pulls Edmund to him, clasping his brother in a tight hug for a moment. Edmund is trembling – Peter pulls him closer. There are a few moments of silence, and then Peter pulls away, clasping his brother's shoulder. "Come on, Ed. Can't be late to your own wedding, mmn?"

Ed lets out a soft, wet chuckle. "No… I'd never live it down."

They arrive three minutes late. Edmund's fiancée is waiting, and raises an eyebrow when they catch sight of Edmund. He shakes his head, takes a breath and squares his shoulder. A quick scan of the faces around them confirms, sadly, that Susan is not there. Edmund sighs but focuses on the moment.

The vows go by in a flurry – Edmund clasps at his fiancé's hand, as though it were a lifeline. Peter stands near – one hand on his sword just in case.

"Until we part,"

"Until we part." Edmund hesitates a split second before sealing their vows, their marriage, with a long kiss. His husband smiles against his lips, and deepens it amongst the cheers from their friends.

That night, there is much cheer; the dancing goes on till the early hours – and the Narnians are drunk on happiness to see at least one of their Kings happy and wed. Edmund teases Peter – after a little _too much_ elven wine – that he expects the High King to propose to his lady post haste.

"Chop chop, Pete." He says, a slackened smile on his face as he clasps Peter's shoulder, none too gently. "… she won't wait forever, you know."

Peter gamely agrees, though his stomach churns unpleasantly. He has to stay throughout the rest of the celebration though, even as his own beloved tries to sneak him away. "… it'll look bad," he protests to her, and Mairie rolls her eyes.

"Peter, darling, I don't think most of these people can see at _all_ right now." She points out, and Peter gives a grimacing smile, nodding and letting her lead him from the room, to their chambers.

Edmund takes his own lover that night – his husband is flushed and drunk with victory – he reminds the Just of himself after an assassination (not that Edmund, for the record, has ever assassinated anyone… so far as people know). They are harried and fumbling – none-too gentle in a way that will hurt the next morn, but Edmund does not care. Eventually, they fall asleep in a sated mess, curled around each other protectively.

He wakes to a fresh, clear evening. It seems that they've been left alone; there is a tray with food at the edge of the bed, and Edmund reads the note from Lucy as he eats, rolling his eyes with a fond smile at the sight of his husband, sleeping peacefully, silently.

He joins Peter in the library three hours later – where Peter is frowning over a map, various markers scattered around. Oreius is there, and Edmund's stomach sinks. "Pete? What's going on?" he marches forward, glancing down at the map, noting the discarded letter on the side and snatching it up before Peter can say anything. Peter glances at Oreius, and the centaur shrugs, quietly pouring the two Kings a glass of wine each. Edmund huffs, and gulps his down in one with a thanks. Apparently, war waits for no one.

By the time he goes back to his rooms, it's midnight – and his partner _still_ hasn't stirred. Edmund frowns – wondering just how much the man had had to drink. He leans down, pressing a hand to his husband's head – it is cool. Slightly sweaty. Edmund's frown deepens. "… come on, time to wake up." He shoves his side, ignoring the worry that's pulling at him. "Come on, Cal." he shoves at him again, but Calean does not move. Edmund curses, pulling the man so he's on his back, and slides off the bed to go outside, catching the attention of a passing squirrel. "...Vesna. Please, find Queen Lucy. And..." Edmund hesitates. "High King Peter, if you can find him." The squirrel's nose twitches, before it bounds off.

Edmund moves back inside, taking a wash cloth and basin of water from the side, and moves over, cleaning the evidence of last night's love making from his husband. He's not ashamed of it – but there are certain things that the Just would rather his brother and sister _not_ see.

Lucy flutters in ten minutes later, and gently ushers Edmund over to where Peter is hovering, so she can concentrate on Calean. "He just won't wake up," murmurs Edmund. Peter's brow furrows, and he clasps his brother's shoulder. "… we didn't have too much wine. I was careful. Honest, Pete."

Peter opens his mouth to answer, but Lucy has a strange expression on her face as she draws back, biting her lip. "Ed..."

Edmund feels something dark and dangerous bubble up, but ignores it. "Lu?"

"He's dead." She is not gentle about it, and for that, Edmund is – grateful. The words sink in with a strange sense of… acceptance. He nods slowly, and takes a breath. Lucy hesitates, glancing at Peter before adding, quietly, "… I think he was poisoned."

Something snaps, and shatters inside Edmund's soul. His face closes up, and he gives a nod. Taking a breath, he turns to Peter. "...I'll be in the council chambers."

Peter's face is sympathetically worried as he tries to grab his brother's arm, but Edmund pulls away sharply, and brushes by Peter without even a glance. Peter glances back at Lucy, watching her give a small shrug, the tears leaking from her eyes.

For four days, they do not hear from Edmund. He is locked in the council chambers with several of their troops. Peter leaves him to it – certain this is a stage of grief, somehow. Susan tries to speak to Edmund once, but he pushes her aside, nearly knocking her to the ground in his hurry to leave the conversation.

"What is he trying to do?" She murmurs to Peter, watching Edmund let yet another of their allies into the council chambers.

Peter shakes his head. "… I'm not sure. Find out who poisoned Calean, I suppose." Susan sighs and nods.

"It won't bring him any peace. Finding out."

Peter shrugs, helplessly. "… I think it's all that's keeping him going."

Another two weeks, and Edmund mysteriously disappears from Cair Paravel. Search parties are sent out – quietly and inconspicuously – but the Just turns up later that evening – exhausted and grim. Peter goes to his rooms later – Edmund has, for now, deigned to go into spare rooms at the Cair – and knocks. There's a gruff answer, and he enters to see his brother wiping blood off a blade. Edmund glances up and nods. "...Pete."

Peter shuts the door, and moves over, taking a seat next to Edmund. He hesitates a moment. "...where were you, Ed? We were worried."

There's a pause, then Edmund admits, quietly, "I found Cal's killer." Peter raises an eyebrow, then takes in the blade again. "… and yes. Before you say anything, yes. He's dead."

Peter opens his mouth, then closes it. He can't say he doesn't understand. Gods, if it were Mairie, he would have done the same. Hells, he probably would have done worse. He glances up. "… who was it?"

Edmund pauses. "Best that you don't know yet, Pete. We both know you're an awful liar, so when the news comes, you'll be able to be surprised honestly."

Peter winces, but it's a fair comment. He nods, and gently claps Edmund on the shoulder. "… I'll send for some fresh water for you to bathe. Then I'll come sit with you whilst you sleep."

He's gone before Edmund can say no.

Three days later, and news reaches Peter's ears through Kali the herring that the Prince of Tashbaan is dead. Peter manages not to look Edmund's way. Lucy does, though, and is somewhat… worried… by the smug expression on her brother's face.

That night, she goes to him, and sits quietly whilst Edmund works at his desk. "Cal's funeral is in two days," she murmurs. Edmund's pen stills and he nods, taking a breath. "… Peter wasn't sure if you wanted him … sent off… the way the Narnians are. Or whether..."

"His were people of the earth." Edmund swallows past the tightness in his throat. He remembers them having this conversation – and is oddly thankful now. "He wanted to be buried. Not like ours, Lu."

Lucy nods slowly. "I'll tell Peter." She bites her lip and wraps her arms briefly around her brother. Quietly, she adds; "I hope you made the pig squeal." There's a shocked chuckle from Edmund, and then Lucy is off, skipping through the door and leaving her brother to wonder when his sister became so bloodthirsty.

Calean's funeral is a quiet affair. It is just Edmund, Peter, and Lucy. Susan is – distant. Edmund tries to speak to her, and she apologises for not being at the wedding; then states she cannot be at the funeral. He doesn't push her – Aslan knows that it will take all of Edmund to be at the funeral himself.

It doesn't matter that the Prince is dead. It doesn't matter that Calean has been honoured – his death repaid. There is a large gaping hole in Narnia's Just, and he cannot seem to close it. He watches Peter and Mairie together, and wonders if he and Calean were quite so sickeningly beautiful in their love.

Calean has barely been in the ground an hour when Edmund is called to a council meeting. Peter is grim faced, and Susan looks sick. Lucy is worrying her lip, and something inside Edmund curls. "What is it?" he demands, moving inside.

"… the Tashbaan King. He's declaring war." Peter swallows hard, and for a moment anger rears up in Edmund as he steps to his brother's side.

"… demand a duel."

"Under what grounds, Ed?" Peter shakes his head, not liking this one bit.

Edmund smiles – and there's something stony in it that sets his brother's teeth on edge. "I killed his son. So he wants revenge. Tell him not to be a coward and face me himself." Susan gasps and Lucy lets out a soft moan. Peter's eyes are fixed on Edmund. Slowly, he nods.

The duel happens one snowy evening – and Edmund almost snorts at the first touch of Winter. It's the first time he hasn't dreaded it since coming to Narnia; he's been so preoccupied, it's arrival almost seems… ludicrous. _There are worse things than death._ He remembers the words, and now he thinks he agrees.

Loneliness. That is worth than death, isn't it? It certainly feels like it is.

The duel lasts only an hour before the King concedes. His right arm is broken, and he looks afraid of death. Edmund, for a moment, thinks of doing the same to the King as he had to the man's son – but Justice is not just about death. He knows that to kill this man would bring war upon Narnia. _Again_. And that cannot happen.

He gives the King his life. And that night, Edmund returns to his rooms – his _real_ rooms – and feels hollow.

He asks Peter to wipe the marriage from history. It causes an explosive argument – but Peter eventually, reluctantly agrees. This leads to Lucy not talking to either of them for a few weeks, and Susan skirts around any question of love or marriage or relationships. Peter's own wedding to Mairie is post-phoned, and Mairie watches her husband grow old in days as he worries over his brother's sanity. Eventually, she snaps.

A harsh rap knocks Edmund out of his current state of mind, and he grunts something in way of an allowance. Mairie storms in and walks over, slaps him thrice about the cheek, before standing back. "You aren't just doing this to yourself, Pevensie." she swallows. "I know you're hurting. And I know… what he meant to you." she bites her lip. "But Peter is killing himself worrying about you, and you _need_ to step _up_ here. You're the _Just_. Bloody act like it." She hesitates, then adds, quietly, "… because if Peter doesn't snap out of it soon, I'm going to leave. I can't watch him destroy himself like this." Before she can cry in front of Edmund, she whirls out, slamming the door and leaving a shocked King in her wake.

It's enough.

Edmund returns to training with Oreius and Peter in the mornings – and later, talks quietly and privately with his brother. Before Mairie can have a say in it, suddenly there are wedding preparations, and when she asks who, Lucy replies, with a bright smile, _"Oh,_ yours of course! Silly!" And laughs.

Mairie stares after her and then runs to find her fiancé.

The day of the wedding comes – Edmund is quiet as he and Peter ready, and Peter is not sure what to say. He knows this must be odd – must be… bringing back some memories. Some regrets, some thoughts. He hesitates a moment, and instead of trying to say words that won't mean anything, he draws Edmund into a surprise hug. Edmund clings to him for a moment, then sniffs and pulls back. He gives his brother a tiny, real smile.

Peter smiles back, claps him on the shoulder, before making his way to the court room, where the wedding is being held.

Edmund stands next to him throughout it all, ignoring the sickening feel in his stomach, happy for Peter but heartsick for his own memories. He keeps a careful eye on his brother and Mairie's drinks – just in case. He's fairly certain the Tashbaan's won't come back; won't try a second assassination attempt... but he's on edge nonetheless.

He slips out into the gardens as the party is winding down. The night is cool – rain speckles down, and there's a threat of a storm far off. Edmund walks, not entirely sure where to, but finds himself in the garden where, one year, Lucy and Peter worked tirelessly to save a cluster of acorn trees that had almost been ruined by Jadis' Winter. They are not Talking Trees – they do not dance, but Edmund finds it… _peaceful_. He and Calean used to take walks here in the evening, sometimes.

"Edmund."

For a moment, the name doesn't register. Then, Edmund blinks and there he is – impossible but _there_. "Cal." He is on his feet in seconds, but then Aslan is there next to them. Edmund halts, and bows. "Sire."

 _"Edmund_." Aslan's voice is quiet, yet Edmund doesn't have any trouble catching it. "I have brought Calean, so that you two might say your goodbyes."

Edmund swallows, and hesitates. "… why?"

The ground rumbles, and Edmund bows his head, but does not retract his actions. "Edmund. Look at _Me_." It takes a moment, but Edmund lifts his head. He hasn't felt this ashamed since Aslan rescued him from Jadis' camp, all that time ago. He cannot even look at Calean – he's sure the word _traitor_ is burning the man's heart even though it no longer beats. "If I had not wanted this wedding, do you think I would have let it be?"

"Calean died." Edmund's voice shakes a little. "… perhaps -"

"You spurned a Prince a long time ago, Edmund Pevensie. I know the darkness you endured – the deeds you partook in to keep Narnia safe. He was angry that you did not accept his proposal, and lashed out. He is – in his own place, now."

"With _You_?"

"I tell no one's story but their own, Son of Adam. This you well know." The Lion nudges Calean forward. "Love is what people make of it, my Sons. Your time is fleeting, but know that I have seen you, and I bless this union, such as it was." Edmund's mouth opens, but no words come out. He glances over at Calean, with longing, but Calean is already fading. Edmund swallows, and bows his head briefly, trying not to let the feelings overwhelm.

That evening, he visits Calean's grave. The wind is bitter; but for once, Edmund does not mind. He crouches down, peeling off the small mosses that have grown over the stone, and bites his lip. Words seem unnecessary. He is there until the sun starts to peak from the skyline, and when he notices the first chirpings of day, he simply smiles, and places a hand on the grave before standing up, turning and leaving.

If Edmund had thought to look back, he might have seen Calean, with Aslan at his side, walking into the sunlight.

 _Finis_

* * *

Author's Note: Thoughts and comments are always appreciated!


End file.
